The Irish Open is gone from Adare, sure it is. In fairness, it's lost the owner of Adare Manor Tom Kane about €3 million over the past two years, so no one can really claim to be shocked at it all.
But I fear that I myself may have caused the final, fatal, flagrant financial blow to the Irish Open at Adare.
I had a press pass, you see, to this year's tournament. Well, technically it was the Sports Editor's, but we won't get into that.
Anyway, I finished all the work I needed to do there at about 9.15am on the Wednesday of the Pro-Am, but the pass was good for the whole weekend.
You can see where this is going.
Anyhoo, I used it to get in on the Saturday, because my cousin from the bogs of Kerry was around, and he likes his golf. I thought I'd humour him.
Now we're both Irish and both men, which means we're both pale-skinned and stupid.
No sun cream was bought, and as we started to cook on the back nine, we became desperate.
I flashed the press pass, ran into the media tent and stole eighteen bottles of water, sixteen of which ended up on my face.
Now, as I watch the Open shuffle off to the boring, land-locked midlands, I can't help but think I pushed it over the edge.
One must find a way to live with one's shame.